


Mother

by FeckedSpectrum



Category: Kamisama Hajimemashita | Kamisama Kiss
Genre: Drabble Collection, Gen, Minor Character Death, POV Minor Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 06:07:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3316988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeckedSpectrum/pseuds/FeckedSpectrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of little ficlets that I can't really finish now. (Forever mourning Mrs. Mori.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mrs. Mori reflects.

No home feels full.

The walls are haunted. The rooms empty in the eye but wistful for the mind.

When she closes her eyes, she can almost hear the rap-tap-tap-crash down the wood boards of the stairs, still imagine the wide-eyed smile playing in his voice, ' _I overslept, I'll grab something before I get to school, love you Mom!'_

He never lost his trademark smile. Ever since he learned how as a small, but growing bundle of warmth and baby blankets, he kept that same smile. Innocent. Truthful. Genuine. It began as a sparkle of sunlight in his big doe eyes and stretched the corners of his mouth to open like his soul.

He had been dead longer than she thought, when she looks back on it. The walls were haunted before the funeral, with a ghost of his form. A form that lacked his soul.

The body deteriorated before its time. The corpse they buried was made too pretty, too untouched by wrinkles or age. He was still sleeping, he had missed his alarm and at any moment he would come thundering down the stairs, ' _I overslept..._ '

She had a gravestone. She had an empty house. She had an allowance from the Mori Trust, the business her son was meant to inherit, but never touched. Her dead husband's sister managed the company, as she had when her husband had passed and Kirihito was only a boy.

She was a widow, now childless. The black dress had never made her body more numb, without even a speck of sunlight in her baby's eyes that were now closed forever.

 


	2. Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akura-ou asks for a favor, in his own way.

“Oi.”

Nanami looked up from her math problem, which had refused to solve itself in the three minutes she had been glaring at it, to see a curtain of long red hair between two curved horns.

“I want you to do something for me, Scarf Woman.”

The land god continued to stare at Akura-ou, who was hanging upside down from a tree branch with arms crossed and a serious look on his face, as if he had no idea how ridiculous he looked. “Why do you keep calling me 'Scarf Woman'? I'm not even wearing a scarf!”

“It's a cutesy nickname I picked out for you.”

“It's not cute at all.”

“Is too!”

“Is not!”

The demon suddenly reached out and held her face with both hands. Nanami worried for a minute, remembering how grabby he tended to be - unaware and unconcerned with personal boundaries - before he moved his hands into her hair and started mussing it up.

“Augh! Stop that! I was having a good hair day!”

“Admit defea-agh!” Akura-ou cried out as he lost his hold on the branch and fell to the ground, horns stuck in the ground, forcing him to hold his body up with legs bent to avoid breaking his neck.

Tomoe glared at him, crossing his arms. “What are you doing here with Nanami?”

The oni jerked his head around to widen the holes around his horns before he managed to free himself, dirt clods clinging to the white bones. “Asking for a favor, obviously.”

“You didn't ask me for anything.”

“I did before you started nagging me, Scarf Woman!”

“Seriously?! My name is Nanami, say Nanami-”

“What,” Tomoe growled, grabbing one of Akura-ou's pointed ears. “Do you want?”

“Bluebells.”

The god and familiar stared at him.

“I can't find any bluebell flowers, so I want you to make some.”

The pair continued to stare.

“What?” Nanami asked, head tilted to the side.

“It's a flower. It's blue. It's shaped like a bell-”

“ _Why?_ ” Tomoe asked, staring at him in disbelief.

“Reasons,” Akura-ou growled. “For a girl, if that makes you feel any better.”

“ _What?_!” the land god cried, clapping her hands together. “You found a girlfriend? You're acting nice to her? Is she scary? Is she a demon? Is she Kayako-”

“It's not like-” the war lord huffed. “Are you going to do it or not?”

“Not,” Tomoe answered. “A god can't just make flowers out of thin air.”

“A god can make someone die or become a human but they can't make some stupid flowers?” Akura-ou growled, mood souring. “Fine. It was stupid anyway.”

A brief look of real sadness crossing his face was all it took for Nanami's will to crumble. “Wait here while I get a white talisman!”

***

He wound up tying the talisman onto the flowers to make sure the wind couldn't tug it off. The sky seemed to mirror his mood, threatening to bring a storm over Kyoto.

He stood still for a moment, wondering if the rain would spoil the talisman's magic and return the bluebells to common weeds. “There's freesias in here because they're from me. I'm childish. Everyone says that. There's also some pansies, because you are one of the most caring people I've met. The bluebells were hard to get, but they're the important part. It's important to tell you I'm grateful for meeting you. For everything you've done for me.”

He bent down to lay the bouquet against the stony entrance to the family mausoleum, and waited until he noticed the rain was ruining his leather jacket, but didn't disturb the talisman.

***

Nanami continued chewing on the end of a pencil, frustrated by her homework. Was it really due tomorrow? She checked the calendar to be sure, but the date made her still for a different reason.

“What is it, Nanami?” Tomoe asked, still waiting for his fiance to ask him to help her with that rudimentary math assignment.

“It's mother's day.”


	3. Market

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An off-screen moment before chapter 125.

Self-reflection was something that the endless boredom of Yomi provided him. He could see his faults and mistakes plainly looking back on them. He shouldn't have taken a stupid fox cub under his wing. He shouldn't have played fast and loose with world domination. He should have been more determined, smarter, and more focused. He should have been an emperor of a world that learned to fear him easily.

Now he was at a supermarket, holding canvas bags and a small lavender purse.

His mother clucked her tongue, studying the meat display long enough to unnerve the teenager working behind it. “I can't remember what Mr. Kichirou is allergic to. Mr. Soto liked the seafood hot pot I made last year, but if it's a citrus allergy then I should go with the roast.”

Kirihito looked longingly at the butcher working carcass into food with each stroke of his cleaver. He would rather be anywhere but here.

“Kirihito, do you remember?”

He didn't. “I think it was a seafood allergy. The roast you made last week is sure to please the board members.”

The woman beamed at him like a lovestruck schoolgirl and finally placed an order with the butcher. How long had he been trailing her like this? Had he ever really existed? Was he always a spirit doomed to follow an old maid on her grocery trip?

He had been able to avoid such mundane excursions when he was ill, but now that his health had surged, he was strung along with just one droopy-eyed look from the old woman. It was at least a means of getting into her favor and avoiding the waterworks that unnerved him so.

“I know you're nervous, Kirihito,” the woman said with a pat on his arm. “You still have two years in school before the board asks anything of you. Have you been thinking about which branch you would like to be transferred into? I wish you would stay in Kyoto, but I know you're an adult now...”

“I like Kyoto,” Akura-ou said, catching another stupid grin from the corner of his eye. “But I haven't decided if I want to stay.”


End file.
